


Ironically Untitled

by amaranthineArcane (toxicNeurosis)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirk isn't that much older than you are (2-3 years maybe) but rated underage because reasons, Established Relationship, F/M, Frustration over having to teach the reproductive system unit to my anatomy class, Lime, No matter how comfortable you are with your own genitals, Reproductive system: the most embarrassing of all body systems to teach, Short drabble is short, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicNeurosis/pseuds/amaranthineArcane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>==> Reader: Emerge from fuckdeep in insane amounts of smuppet butt.</p><p>You cannot emerge from fuckdeep in insane amounts of smuppet butt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ironically Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This mostly stems from frustration over being one of six members of a group that has to teach the reproductive system to the rest of my Anatomy and Physiology class.
> 
> Because we only have one week to cover four units before the End of Course tests.
> 
> I am prepared to fail.

==> Be the girl buried fuckdeep in insane amounts of smuppet butt.

You are now the girl buried fuckdeep in insane amounts of smuppet butt.

You are trying to ignore the jutting felt rumps and erect cloth cocks (though many of these could just be noses) and lolling stuffed tongues, but that's kind of hard to do when there's a Kermit cock jutting from your armpit and an unknown puppet dick dangling precariously in your face and something rubbing against something it shouldn't be rubbing against - that right is reserved for your boyfriend only, who also happens to be the owner of said puppets, and if you're not mistaken you've fucked around with one of these once or twice. But you don't know where the rest of these have been, and you kind of don't care to find out. You love your boyfriend well enough, but the puppets ought to stay in his room where they belong in the dark unknowing corners of the closet, not overstuffed in the fridge. Sometimes you wonder if he ever gets caught in his own traps. You doubt it.

There are footsteps from some distance away, probably about ten feet or so, and then they stop. Most likely not your boyfriend; it's become so habitual for him to be silent and stealthy that his footsteps can only be heard on extremely rare occasions. Like how you can't hear Creepers coming up behind you before they explode and make you lose your seven diamond pickaxes; those had taken forever to get back. You guess the owner of the footsteps - most likely Dave - is observing the situation in silence. Then the footsteps leave, and the solid sound that reaches your ears makes you think he's probably heading down the hall, where the bedrooms are.

All is silent for a moment, then the puppet pile jiggles a bit and blessed artificial light peeks through a gap in the rumps, as well as a bright tangerine eye. You would tell him to help you, but the movement in the pile has caused the felt dick above you to shift lower and you don't want to risk it hitting you in the face. The eye vanishes, then more light shines through before your tomato-red face is revealed to your boyfriend, the one and only Dirk Strider. He's silent, but you think you can detect a shred of pity in his bright eyes, which are, on a rare occasion that isn't between the bedsheets, shades-less. You think he can also sense his eventual demise by your hands. He plucks you up from the disrupted pile by the back of your shirt, and you dangle there because he dwarfs you by at least half a foot.

You're the first to speak. "You and your damned puppets."

He just smirks, and his soul patch twitches with the movement of his lips, which doesn't help you much. You're quite mad at him but at the same time you want to kiss him and let him pin you to the bed and screw you senseless. "Yeah, but you're the one who said yes."

"Shut up." He laughs, this quiet, warm, velvety sort of sound that makes you want him even more because hell, that laugh could cure all known diseases, and sets you down before you suffocate. "Alright, let's put this shit away."

"And whyever would we do that?" he asks, and he's doing the sexy eyebrow thing you like and it's just making you even more turned on. "I thought you liked the dick."

"N-not this kind of dick!" You're a flustered mess and he knows it and he's milking it of all it's worth.

Oh, he is so dead later. But you can't help but love him.

"That's not what you said-"

" **That was one time!** "

He laughs again and his hands linger on your waist before traveling downward, and one slides into your pants. You try to repress the moans as rough and calloused but incredibly gentle fingers stroke and tease you, and fail miserably.

"Hey."

It's Dave, standing in the doorway in an old t-shirt and boxers, looking like he just crawled out of bed. You don't know about Dirk, but you're awfully embarrassed right now, found being fingered in front of the refrigerator by your boyfriend's younger brother, even if you're about the same age.

"Move out of the way, I need apple juice."


End file.
